What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1)

by O. Y. Flemming

  “Well, Ms. Tanner is being held without bail. The drug she’s already admitted to giving you is deadly if taken with alcohol. Which is why you are here, Mr. Morgan. Do you realize Ms. Tanner is being charged with attempted murder on top of drug possession and distribution charges? Not to mention she assaulted an officer. So if I were you, Mr. Morgan, I’d wash my hands of her.”

  Bryant looks at the officers and nods.

  “Bryant, has the doctor been in to see you since you’ve been awake.”

  “No, not yet,” one of the nurses answers his father. “We’ll be keeping him overnight to make sure there’s no brain damage or other side effects. He lost a lot of oxygen to his brain.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” his mother gasps.

  “Ma, I’m fine.”

  It amazes me how New York he sounds. That’s the Italian coming out in Bryant.

  “Bria, honey, you look exhausted. You should go home. We’ll look after Bryant.”

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Morgan. I’ll just call Mr. Wilke to let him know I won’t be in this morning.”

  “Bree, I’m going to be fine. Please, go home, get a few hours of sleep, and go to work.”

  “Bryant, I’m not going to be able to sleep knowing you are here.” I shake my head. “I can’t,” I say softly.

  “Bria, you have a lot more to worry about. Please just go home,” Bryant begs. He’s right. I have his business, my business, and Mr. Wilke to be concerned about. I can’t accomplish anything being here at the hospital with him.

  “Okay,” I say as I hold up my hands in defeat. “I need to call a taxi.”

  “I’ll take you,” Mr. Morgan volunteered.

  “Okay, give me a second and I’ll be ready.” I turn to Bryant and run my hand through his hair. He closes his eyes as if my touch is too overwhelming for him. It’s our universal code for “we’re okay.” I lean in and kiss him on his cheek. “I’ll check with you later, okay.” He nods and I turn to leave with Mr. Morgan following me.

  As we come to the doors leading to the parking garage, he directs me to stay put while he brings the car around. Good, because this ankle has gotten far too much usage today. Mr. Morgan pulls up in a nice Cadillac truck. I’m not a fan of the truck made by Cadillac because it’s accident research and reports suck. However, this is a nice truck. I locate the airbag as I settle in my seat. “Better safe than sorry,” I say with a chuckle. He pulls away and off into the seven o’clock traffic.

  * * *

  “You know, Bria. Bryant loves you very much.”

  “I love Bryant too, Mr. Morgan; he’s my best friend.”

  He laughs. “No, Bryant is in love with you. He’s only trying to get your attention with Cassie.”

  “Mr. Morgan, that can’t be true. He knows I despise Cassie with everything I have in me. Bryant loves me, yes; but I’m safe for him. He thinks if things don’t work with us, we will still be friends.”

  “Oh, and that’s not true?” he asks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Ahh.” He gestures. “What would happen if it didn’t work?”

  “Things would be awkward between us.”

  “How are they now?” He glances over at me.

  “Fine, I guess.”

  “I saw you with your guy friend earlier.”

  “Oh, Cruz? He’s actually Bryant’s business colleague.”

  “Oh, is that so? Does Bryant know that guy is sweet on you?”

  “Cruz isn’t sweet on me,” I lie. More like licked on me.

  “Bria, honey, I know you can’t possibly expect me to believe that. He’s arrogant too,” Mr. Morgan adds.

  “Turn right on this next street,” I say, directing him to my house and away from that conversation.

  “Jeff tells me you are starting a new company.”

  “Yes, I am. I have a few things coming up actually.”

  “Yes, he tells me you have a real talent for seeking out people’s fantasies.”

  “I guess,” I say nonchalantly.

  “So what would it cost to have something like that set-up or scheduled for me?” He eyes me quickly, and then turns his attention back to the road.

  “Uh, it depends, Mr. Morgan, on where you’d like your fantasy to take place, the timeframe, and what you have in mind. Of course, you’ll probably want to hint around to Mrs. Morgan to get a feel for what she likes.” I’m fishing of course. He looks at me with a smile on his face.

  “Bria, one of your policy items is discretion, correct?”

  BING!

  “Of course, Mr. Morgan, of course it is,” I repeat nervously.

  “Okay, so send me some brochures by email and we’ll go from there.”

  “Yes, sir, we can.” I nod. He’s pulling up on my block and I see my car that was once on flats has been repaired. That’s what Cruz was doing..

  “Here we go; front door service.” He smiles. “So, Bria, send me that info as soon as you can, and I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay, I look forward to it.”

  As I get out of the truck, I remember I gave Cruz my house keys earlier. I let out a curse as I limp to my doorstep. Thank God, I decided to put a bench on my porch to make it look festive. I didn’t think I’d be using it, but I guess I’ll have a seat. Mr. Morgan has already pulled off, so the chances of me chasing him down to take me to Cruz are slim to none. I scroll through my phone and find that unfamiliar number. “Ah, got It!” I press call. It rings one time.

  “King Industries, Cruz King speaking.” His voice even sends a rush that causes a reaction from my core.

  “Hi, Cruz,” I say and hold the ooh sound in his name. I can sense he’s smiling on the phone.

  “Good morning, honey. I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

  “You know, Cruz, you were right.”

  “I know I was. What changed your mind, honey? Hmm, was it the tongue lashing I performed between those thighs?”

  Heat rises to my face and through my body.

  “No, not that.”

  “Seriously, it couldn’t have been my smile. Was it my body?”

  “No, not that either.”

  “Ahhh, the way you came all over my face… turned you on too, huh?”

  “Cruz?”

  “Yeah, honey, what is it?”

  “You have my fucking house keys.” The line goes dead. “Did that fucker just hang up on me?”

  I sit, waiting on the porch, and look around my house. I think it’s time for a good painting. I’ve been here a couple years; it wouldn’t hurt. I have too much on my plate right now, so it’ll have to wait. About four or five minutes pass, I can hear what sounds like an engine roaring down my block. Cruz’s Infiniti is speeding toward my house.

  He speeds up my driveway next to my car. As he gets out, he’s yelling, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Excuse me, I live here!” I yell back at him with a pardon me attitude.

  “No shit, Bria. I told you to stay at the hospital.”

  “No, you said you’ll be back. Nothing was said about me staying there.”

  He storms past me to my front door. He’s fumbling with my keys to get them in the door. He turns, looks at me, and shakes his head. “Why women don’t listen is beyond me.”

  “Well, you should’ve figured that out being you have so many of them… women, I mean,” I say sarcastically.

  His body stills for a second as if I hit a nerve. So I push further.

  “I mean I would have thought you’d have us figured out by now.” He turns as the door opens, grabs my arm, and forcefully pushes me in. “What the hell, you ass! Watch it!”

  “No, you fuckin’ watch it. You don’t know me, Bria, not one bit.” He moves closer to me and slams the door shut. I can hear beeping in the background.

  “You know nothing about my life, so I advise you never to speak about something you know nothing of.”

  His eyes are darkening and my stomach is in knots. I’ve never been nervous this way around Cruz; it�
�s an alarming feeling. He moves around me quickly. I turn to see where he’s going, and he stops at the panel on my wall before my bedroom. He flips it open to enter a series of number, and the awful beeping sound stops.

  He walks back to me. The look in his eyes says he’s pissed at me.

  “Cruz, who are you?”

  He stares at me and shakes his head. “No, Bria we are not doing this.”

  “Okay, so when are we, Cruz? You show up from who knows where and make demands of me, and I can’t ask you who you are? That’s hypocritical.”

  “No, what’s fucking hypocritical is you. You’re fucking a man who’s not even your boyfriend or husband. ‘We’re friends’,” he says with air quotes in a high-pitched voice. I almost want to laugh, but I’m too mad to give him the satisfaction.

  “I need to get ready for work; thanks for bringing my keys. You can let yourself out.” I’m calm because if I’m anything but rational, I’ll push him too far.

  He grabs my arm. God… doesn’t he get enough. This arm hurts. “Shit, Cruz, what now?” He pulls me to my sitting room.

  “Listen to me; you need to rest. You should not go to work today. You can work from home.” It’s true. I can, but I’d like to get out of this house.

  “Call your boss. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  “Okay!”

  “I’ll make you breakfast, then I have to run an errand. I can be back by noon.”

  “I’m not hungry, Cruz,” I sigh.

  “Why can’t you accept someone helping you? Wait, I’m not Morgan.” I pay no attention to the pot shot he just threw at me. I just shake my head and grab my phone from my pocket. Dialing my boss, I look at Cruz and his expression says, “That’s what I thought.”

  “Hello, Mr. Wilke, good morning.”

  “Breeee–aaa, stay home today, love. You’ve had a long night. Don’t even think about working from home. Rest. Relax. Tomorrow is another day.”

  “Well, okay, Mr. Wilke, since you put it that way. Oh, Mr. Morgan spoke to me today.”

  “Mr. Morgan, Sr.?” my boss questions.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Are you alone?”

  I look up at Cruz who’s eyeing me suspiciously.

  “No,” I answer.

  “I’ll speak to you later then, okay?”

  “All right, Mr. Wilke. Again, thank you.”

  “No worries, love, rest up. Bye-bye, now.”

  “Bye, Mr. Wilke.”

  “He’s too friendly,” Cruz says angrily.

  “Is there anyone you approve of?”

  “Nope,” he confirms as he gets up. “Omelet?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Okay, you mind if I make me an omelet.”

  “Go ahead, have fun. I’m getting in the shower and lying down. Just replace my eggs.”

  He smiles devilishly. “I can fertilize them too if you like.”

  “Ugh, I really hate you.” I limp off to my bathroom. “He’s incorrigible,” I say under my breath.

  I unwrap my ankle and it feels like heaven, pressure is released from the tightness of the cloth. It feels better. I try it out on the floor as I stand on my tiptoes. I lift myself up two or three times to test the tenderness. Oh good, not too sore.

  I shower and put on some baggy sweats with an off the shoulder T-shirt. I guess I can remain half-presentable while I have an unwanted guest. I walk into my sitting room to find Cruz sitting on the sofa with his shirt off… again. God, he’s in my space… he’s in my mind, worse of all he’s… My eyes trail down to that V-shape that lies underneath his…. lounge pants? Again? I walk to where he’s reading a newspaper and I look down at him.

  He looks up, sitting the piece of toast in his hand on a plate.

  “I made enough for you too.”

  “Not hungry.”

  “You’re eyeing me like you’re hungry for something.” He sits back on the sofa. He places his hands on his lap, you know in that ‘man way.’ I can see a bulge in his pants. I shake my head and sit on the far end of the sofa.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I reach for the remote control; he snatches away, out of my reach.

  “How can you ask a question if you’re watching the tube?”

  “I don’t know. I just…”

  “You just need something to distract you, Bria.” He places the remote back on the table. “Ask me,” he coaxes. I pause. He leans forward as if he’s waiting for a question.

  “I just want to know what your M.O. is.” He sits back.

  “My M.O.?” Cruz repeats the words I asked.

  “Yeah, you’re too comfortable in my space. You have your lounge pants on.” I over dramatize the letter ‘n’. “You changed clothes over here,” I sing only half joking. “I’m not sure when you moved in.” I laugh sarcastically. He chuckles and his face goes straight.

  “Honey, I didn’t move in. I have my own place,” he says matter-of-factly. He shakes his head and picks his plate up. He gets up and walks into the kitchen, where he starts to clean up breakfast. I join him a few minutes later.

  “Cruz, you didn’t answer my question.” He turns to look at me and his stare intimidates me a little.

  “My main objective is to make your body go numb for all others but me… when I growl your name.” He pauses then moves closer as he places a utensil in the dishwasher and slams it. I jump. “Your pussy will throb to my voice only. My main objective is for my cock to leave a permanent curve in your pussy.” He’s so close he could blink and brush my eyelids with his lashes. I take a step back, and Cruz takes a step forward. “What? That’s not the answer you wanted?”

  I shake my head and sidestep him to hurry to my room. What am I doing? Why haven’t I asked him to leave? I close and lock both doors to my room. I’m not sure why, but I do. He doesn’t scare me, but he does intimidate me.

  CHAPTER 12

  That afternoon Cruz orders me Chinese, and Thai for himself. I swear he and Bryant are one and the same. Cruz is a bit cockier than Bryant. Bryant has an obnoxious side; he doesn’t care about people who’re not in his circle. The day goes by pretty quick. We go over the proposals for his and Bryant’s plans for the company. All of the deadlines are set in place. With Bryant being in the hospital, Cruz is still moving forward.

  “Are you comfortable with this time table?”

  “Yeah, I am,” he says.

  “What about the profits and losses?”

  He shrugs. “It can’t be helped either way, right?”

  “Well, it can, Cruz; but you have to be willing to accept some losses somewhere else to compensate on your revenue side,” I tell him. “I mean; we pretty much know where things went wrong. We just have to fix them and profit somewhere else.”

  “This is not what I wanted to be involved with after I sold.” He shakes his head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bria, I sold my portion of the company to my brother. I washed my hands of it. He came to me for help and I have the money; that’s not the issue. I just don’t want anything to do with my family’s company. It keeps me tied to them.” He continues to shake his head. “I sought out Bryant’s company; he’s a fucking genius with this. I can run a company as long as it’s not in jeopardy of failing. When I was on the board, everything was running fine. I left and eight months later things started to go south. Cam should have come to me sooner. Bryant said not to worry. So, I’m trying not to worry.”

  He leans back on the sofa and I’m shocked that he even shares that with me. He’s so reserved and mysterious, I’m actually anxious to hear more. He doesn’t bother me for the rest of the day. He even leaves to go to the health club, which I truly don’t understand. The guy is a fucking wall. Why he would need to gain any more muscle is beyond me. When he arrives back after 8 p.m., he looks more relaxed.

  “Have a good workout?”

  “Yeah, I did,” he says as he grabs a water from the fridge. As he and Bryant both did before, he drinks the entire bottle while
staring at me. As I finish off the last of the Chinese that he ordered for me, I want to ask him more about his life, but I’m not sure if I want to encounter his intimidating demeanor.

  What the hell, I’ll never know unless I try, right?

  I look at Cruz. Taking the last drink of his water, he lowers the bottle from his lips. It’s as though he’s moving in slow motion.

  “Bria, don’t,” he says as he walks away.

  “Why?” I ask, walking behind him. I get close and he stops.

  “Why are you prying, Bria?” He doesn’t turn to face me.

  “You make me pry, Cruz. You invaded me, you invaded all of my senses and so quickly. What do you expect me to do?”

  “Accept it, enjoy it, and take it. Take it how I give it to you.” He turns to face me. “Whether it’s sweet and slow or hard and fast. You better accept it, enjoy it, and take it, dammit.” He says it low and cruel. I inhale a swift breath. He always throws my breathing off. I can’t control it around him; it’s an adrenaline spike. No, he’s an adrenaline spike. I take in another hard breath; he grabs my T-shirt in a balled fist to pull me to his lips. He crashes into me and our tongues find each other. What am I doing? I don’t kiss; it’s too… too intimate.

  He’s not gentle; his kisses are urgent and demanding. He slips his hands in my sweat pants from behind. He feels I’m not wearing any underwear and hisses at the discovery. Cruz latches onto my tongue and sucks on it, while backing me to the wall. Both his hands are squeezing my ass cheeks while pushing my sweats as far as he can without losing mouth contact with me.

  Finally, he raises his foot and pushes my sweats down.

  ”Step out,” he says. I wiggle both feet out of my pants.

  I’m still having an internal battle. What the hell am I doing?

  Cruz hands find my sex quickly. As he thumbs over my clit, I almost melt from the contact. She needs more than contact; she wants what he has to give. She’ll take it.

  He leans to my ear. “Honey, open, give it to me.” I part my feet slightly so he can gain better access to what he wants.